


I Need You Tonight

by starr_falling



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Femslash, GFY, M/M, PWP, Stripper Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starr_falling/pseuds/starr_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura had insisted that as her maid of honor (Derek was well aware she only called him that because it made him growl, but he couldn't help doing it. Every time.) it was his duty to take her out to a strip club for one last night of debauchery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Need You Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lindsey_blythe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_blythe/gifts).



> Written for the lovely [lindsey_blythe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_blythe). HAPPY BIRTHDAY BB! 
> 
> Title is from [“Need You Tonight”](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrZZfaDp02o) by INXS.

Derek's not sure how he ended up here, only that it's Laura's fault. Since pretty much everything ever is Laura's fault, this is not surprising.

Here is still a surprise, though. He's currently the only guy at his sister's hen party. (“Bachelorette party, Der, do I look like a hen?” she'd asked, flashing her fangs. Derek had sighed and thanked any higher power that might be listening that werewolves couldn't get drunk. Sober Laura was nightmare enough.) Laura had insisted that as her maid of honor (Derek was well aware she only called him that because it made him growl, but he couldn't help doing it. Every time.) it was his duty to take her out to a strip club for one last night of debauchery.

Why she wants to go to a club full of _male_ strippers when she's marrying a woman is a mystery to him. (As is Lydia's presence at the party. Doesn't having your soon to be spouse there kinda ruin the whole “last night of freedom” thing?) She said something about it being traditional, but Derek's pretty sure this is just another way to fuck with him.

Derek has no idea how Laura can possibly be having as much fun as she appears to be having. The music might not be as loud as at a nightclub, but it's close, and the hormones are actually _worse_. Derek has no idea how that's even possible, but the smell of lust and desperation is strong enough to make he want to gag. He bought an overpriced Coke to try to wash the taste out of the back of his throat, but so far he hasn't had any luck.

The club is suddenly hushed, almost quiet, and Derek looks around in surprise. All the lights have dimmed, leaving the club in near darkness, until a spotlight hits the main stage. A man in a suit is standing there, face tilted down and hidden by a fedora. He's all long lean lines, broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist. A new song starts, something with a good beat that sounds familiar, but Derek can't focus on it, too busy watching the way the man's hips roll.

The sudden cheer from the crowd as the man moves snaps Derek out of his near trance. He sits back, disconcerted, trying to figure out a safe place to look. The stage is almost directly in front of their table, and even with his head turned he can still see the dancer in the corner of his eye.

Laura and her ~~scary~~ friends are all hooting and hollering, but Lydia is looking back at him with a thoughtful expression that means nothing good for him. He knows he's doomed when she leans over to whisper something in Laura's ear. Derek looks away, hoping if he ignores them, they'll go away. He admits it's not a great strategy, and one that rarely succeeds, but it's the only option he has other than to run screaming into the night. He's not quite that desperate. Yet.

The downside (upside?) to this plan is that it puts the dancer right back into his line of sight. The man has lost his coat, tie, and shoes. (Had he even been wearing shoes?) His white dress shirt is hanging open, perfectly framing his slim waist and flat stomach. Derek can't help but be mesmerized by the play of muscle every time the dancer rolls his hips.

Then the man's hands settle on the top of his trousers, fingers teasing at the button for an endless moment before trailing up his chest. Derek's eyes follow their movement. He swallows dryly when they brush over pert nipples, but they don't pause continuing up to the long length of his neck.

The dancer tilts his head back, putting his neck on display in a way that makes Derek shift uncomfortably. He really needs to adjust his dick, but is a little afraid to touch it. He hasn't been this worked up since he was a teenager, and he doesn't relish the idea of coming in his pants like one too. 

Derek finally manages to drag his eyes away as the man shrugs out of his shirt. He glares at the table, praying the club is dim enough that Laura won't notice the blush he can feel heat his face. Judging by the giggles he can hear, it isn't. It takes a ridiculous amount of control to keep from growling at her.

As the cheers from the crowd swell, Derek can't help but peek up again. He freezes as his eyes meet bright amber. The dancer seems to be staring straight at him, and Derek couldn't tear his gaze away to save his life. The beautiful eyes captivate him, nearly the color of a 'wolf's eyes, but entirely human.

The spell is finally broken when the man spins around. Derek gets one glimpse of broad shoulders, a strong back, and firm ass before the spotlight cuts out. Derek stares after the dancer, eyes automatically adjusting to allow him to watch him saunter away. (Fuck, how could anyone make walking look like a sex act?)

Derek sat there dazed, eyes glued to where the dancer had disappeared backstage. Not even the ominous laughter of his sister breaks through his stupor. Derek keeps seeing his eyes, bright and so lively. Mischievous. He'd clearly been enjoying himself, loving every moment up on the stage. Derek suspects he'd be the kind to laugh long and loud, without a care for whoever heard him. _Derek_ wants to hear it, wants to see how his eyes would light up every time he smiled.

He nearly jolts out of his seat, who knows how long later, when someone grabs his arm.

“Laura, the hell?” Derek asks as she drags him out of his seat.

Laura heaves a gusting sigh. “Here it is, my last night of freedom, and _I'm_ the one making sure _you_ have a good time. Clearly I will be a much better best man than you are maid of honor.” She sighs again, the drama queen. “It's a fucking tragedy.”

“What.” Derek has a horrible feeling he knows where this is leading. Right to his utter humiliation, like so much of their shared childhood. 

Laura doesn't answer, just graces him with a toothy grin before pulling him through a door he hasn't noticed before. On the other side is a short hallway, doors lining one side. Laura drags him to the second one, shoving him through.

“You're welcome,” Laura calls, laughing, before shutting the door. Derek stares around in confusion, taking in the small space, unfurnished beyond a wide armchair and a table just big enough for a couple of drinks.

Before he can figure out what he's supposed to be doing, the door opens behind him. He turns and freezes, rooted to the spot. It's _him_. The dancer, the one that was quickly becoming an obsession. He's completely naked, miles of bare pale skin on display, save for a g-string and the hat. (The last functional part of his brain can't help but notice the way the small scrap of material is the exact same shade of charcoal as the hat, and admires the way it makes his pale skin almost glow.)

The man smiles at him, and it's the most beautiful thing Derek's ever seen. He knows he has to be staring dumbly, but he can't help himself. There is not a single thought in his head; if breathing wasn't an autonomous function, Derek's pretty sure he wouldn't be doing that either.

“Hello, Derek,” the man purrs. Derek shudders, and the grin widens. He stalks forward, invading Derek's personal space. “You can call me, Bruce.”

Derek can hear the lie, even as stupefied as he is, but he can't really blame him. Hell, Bruce could probably do anything to him and he wouldn't care. Not as long as he was wearing that smile and so little else.

Bruce leans in close, and for a moment Derek thinks he's going to kiss him, but he only places his hands on Derek's shoulders. He walks Derek back until the backs of his knees press against the chair, then switches his grip to push him down until he's seated. Derek swallows hard as this puts him eye level with Bruce's dick.

The thin material hides absolutely nothing, making it very obvious that Bruce is not only circumcised, but half-hard. He climbs into Derek's lap, knees on either side of his thighs, hands gripping the chair next to his head.

This close Derek can pick up so many details he'd missed before, like the smattering of moles on his face and body, and the way he smells warm and spicy. Bruce rolls his hips and Derek's mind truly shuts down. It's a wonderful torture the way his ass is so close to touching Derek's needy cock; the near brush of his dick to Derek's abs with every move he makes.

Derek is distantly aware that the guy is talking, but he can't focus enough to pay attention. His hands are gripping the arms of the chair so tightly he can hear them creaking faintly. If he doesn't ease up soon he's going to break something, but if he does let go he won't be able to keep his hands to himself. All that creamy skin is calling to him and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to touch.

Derek groans as Bruce leans back, one hand leaving the chair to smooth down his chest. He plays with the edge of the g-string, slipping two fingers underneath. Derek's breath catches, wanting him to just yank it off, at the same time praying he doesn't. He doesn't think he'll be able to stay in control if he actually removes it.

He doesn't remove it, slipping his hand back up his chest instead. He plays with his nipples, tweaking first one, then the other. Derek can hear the long low moan he's making, but can't care enough to even try to hold it back.

The answering moan sends a shock of warmth through him. He drags his eyes up to Bruce's face. He's flushed, biting his lip, eyes dark and pupils blown. For the first time Derek realizes that the dancer's breathing is just as ragged as his own.

Before he has time to think about that, Bruce leans over him again, breath ghosting over his cheek and ear.

“You can touch,” he breathes directly into Derek's ear. “I want you to.”

Derek's got his hands on his hips even before Bruce stops speaking. They both groan as Derek drags him down into his lap. Derek rocks up against him while using his grip on Bruce's hips to pull him down at the same time. They grind together gracelessly before Bruce starts shifting around. Derek groans, hoping to encourage the wiggling. Bruce shifts so Derek's cock lines up just right, sliding between his ass cheeks.

Derek shudders, biting his cheek with fangs to keep from whimpering. Bruce takes over, rocking slow and steady. Derek's not sure which is better, the feel of Bruce's ass, or the way his cock rubs against Derek's abs with every movement. A particularly deft twist of hips rips another moan out of him.

“Shh, shh,” Bruce seals his mouth over Derek's, swallowing the next moan and the next. “You have to be quiet. If anyone hears you I'll be fired.”

Derek bites back another moan, sucking Bruce's tongue into his mouth making him moan in turn. Derek would smirk in satisfaction if his mouth wasn't too busy with other things. He's close, so close when Bruce pulls back, gasping for breath. Derek tries to pull him back, but he deftly twist out of his grasp, sliding out of Derek's lap to kneel on the floor.

Derek has to bite his knuckles to keep from growling at the sight of Bruce between his knees, looking up at him from under the hat that has somehow stayed on. Bruce settles his hands on Derek's knees, pushing them farther apart and settling between them. Bruce runs his hands lightly up his thighs, the barely there sensation making Derek shiver.

The smile Bruce throws him as he undoes his button and pulls down the zipper is positively sinful. He has to muffle a groan of his own as Derek's cock springs out, unrestrained by an underwear.

“Ha! Knew it,” he murmurs before leaning forward and licking a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. Derek shudders, shoving his fist harder to his mouth to muffle the sounds trying to escape.

Bruce teases him with little licks to the shaft, swirling his tongue around the head, only to pull back again. Derek growls, hips arching in a desperate bid for friction. 

Bruce chuckles lowly, “Someone's impatient.”

Derek's reply gets lost as Bruce finally takes him in his mouth, sucking him down, not stopping until Derek's pressed to the back of his throat. Derek knocks the damn hat off, needing to _see_. The way Bruce's pink lips stretch around his cock is obscene, but the heated look in his eyes is what nearly sets Derek off.

He bites his knuckles again, this time to stave off his climax. He doesn't want this to end yet. Bruce swallows around him before pulling back, tongue stroking up his length, stopping with just the head in his mouth. He sucks, cheeks hollowing, and nothing could stop Derek from coming now. He arches, claws sinking deep into the arms of the chair to keep from grabbing Bruce, from forcing him down on his cock until he's swallowing Derek again.

Bruce moans, the vibrations driving Derek crazy as his climax goes on and on. Bruce just keeps sucking, swallowing down every drop of come. Derek slumps, exhausted, shudders racking his body. Bruce finally pulls off, giving his dick a kiss before scrambling back into his lap.

Derek isn't much help, still limp from the best orgasm he's had in years. That doesn't seem to be a problem for Bruce, who is grinding against his stomach, swearing and moaning. Derek gets a glimpse of the tip of his cock, just poking out of his g-string. Suddenly desperate to see more, he pushes Bruce back, ignoring his complaints. As soon as there's enough room, he slips his hand between them, yanking the tiny scrap of fabric aside.

Bruce's cock springs out, hard and hot and wet. Derek wastes no time in gripping it, swiping pre-come from the tip, stroking it, hard and fast. Bruce buries his face in Derek's shoulder, moans muffled enough to keep anyone else from hearing. Derek doesn't take his eyes off what his hand is doing, loving the way Bruce's cock leaps in his grip, easily riding the short jerks of his hips.

Then he's pulsing, biting down on Derek's shoulder, come splashing warm across his hand and abs. Derek's hard pressed not to moan again as it drips on his oversensitive dick. He doesn't stop moving, milking Bruce for everything he's worth, until he hisses and pulls back.

Derek reluctantly lets go, but doesn't have long to mourn the loss, Bruce's tongue in his mouth a welcome distraction. They trade lazy kisses, slow and sweet for long minutes but finally Bruce pulls back. He presses his forehead to Derek's briefly, eyes closed and breathing shallow. Then he's sliding back to his knees, looking up at Derek through his lashes.

“Totally worth getting fired,” he says, low enough that a human wouldn't have caught it. Before Derek can respond, he leans forward and starts licking his come off Derek. Derek throws his head back, shuddering as the wet heat passes over his abs, then his cock. Derek grunts in surprise when his dick twitches.

Bruce finally stops, but doesn't get up. Instead he carefully tucks Derek back in his jeans and zips him up. When he's done, he looks up at Derek through his lashes. Derek's brain would probably melt if it was actually working at this point.

Bruce runs his hands down Derek's thighs to his knees, uses them to lever himself upright. Derek has no idea how he looks, but given how smug Bruce's smile is, he's guessing thoroughly debauched. Derek watches in a daze as Bruce tucks himself back into his g-string, then bends to retrieve his hat. The firm globes of his naked ass elicit another twitch.

He turns around, leaning over Derek again, presses one last slow kiss to his lips. Derek loses himself in it, savors the taste of himself on Bruce's tongue. He pulls away all too soon, and Derek has to dig claws into his thighs to keep from whining pathetically.

“Hmm,” Bruce purrs. “I hope you enjoyed your dance.”

He's up and to the door before Derek can gather his wits. “Wait, uh.” He looks back at Derek with his hand on the knob. Derek gropes for something to say. “Uh. Tip?” he asks, fumbling his wallet out.

Bruce's smile turns down right salacious. “Not necessary. You've been more than generous already.” Then he's gone.

Derek stares at the door long after he's gone. It takes ages for his breathing and heart rate to return to normal. But it isn't until he hears someone passing his door that he finally gets up. He starts for the door, only realizing he's still holding his wallet when he reaches for the knob.

He shoves it back in his pocket, frowning at the sound of paper crinkling. He pulls his wallet back out so he can get to the piece of paper inexplicably in his pocket. He has to stare at it for a minute before it finally makes sense.

_My shift's over at 1. Coffee?  
Stiles 255-3425 :D_

Derek smiles, not even the thought of Laura being able to smell exactly what he's been up to enough to ruin his good mood.


End file.
